Blue Eyes and Lace Fans
by NessieGG
Summary: (one-shot) An old-west fic. Deputy Sheriff Heero Yuy leaves his hometown at the persuasive methods of Duo Maxwell and rides to Sanq. He expects nothing special, and begins to be surprised. But nothing surprises him as much as a certain woman... Please R


----------------------  
  
Blue Eyes and Lace Fans  
  
By Gundam Girl  
  
PG-13 for a little language and some innuendo.  
  
----------------------  
  
Former Deputy Sheriff Heero Yuy didn't know why he'd let Duo convince him to turn in his badge, leave his hometown, and ride halfway across the west to Sanq with him. Duo hadn't been in his town long, just passing through from his duties as a U.S. colonel. He'd been going home to a woman in Sanq, and he'd said there was no other place like it. Despite what anyone said, it was the same as any other western town. The streets were dusty like anywhere else, the air was dry like anywhere else, and the liquor made you drunk – just like anywhere else.  
  
But he hadn't objected to some kind of change, and so he'd packed up his few belongings and climbed onto his horse and rode toward new life. His life.  
  
Duo checked him into the hotel, having a brief word with the owner who was called Wufei. He was a straightforward businessman, the son of Chinese immigrants. His bride was the local midwife. He seemed ever irritated with Maxwell, as he called Duo, but he never asked him to leave.  
  
A secret friend, Heero figured as he entered his room. He was properly furnished with a bed and a dresser, and a single chair. There was a homemade quilt over the bed, and Heero wondered if Wufei's wife, whose name was Sally he'd been told, had sewed the blanket herself. Probably. Women everywhere were sentimental like that.  
  
For the first few days in Sanq, Heero did nothing but stay in his room but for when he ate dinner with Duo and his new wife, Hilde, who had married Duo only a half-year before. She was young – they both were – with a pretty face, a spirited laugh, and a quick-witted tongue. She was also four months pregnant.  
  
Heero didn't know how easily he could imagine Duo being a father; he was a wild man, even as a colonel. But he figured he'd raise the child and any others that came along fine. He was a good servant of the country, Heero knew, and a good man.  
  
Duo talked him into seeing the town near the end of the first week there, and Heero complied. But Duo himself was at Hilde's beck and call that day, helping decorate the town hall. So Heero went alone and saw the restaurant, the saloon, the church although he wasn't a very religious man, and the town hall as balloons and streamers were hung and cloths were laid over expansive tables. Some were already bringing in the liquor.  
  
He was browsing the convenient store which was owned by a woman named Anne Une, who was the not-quite-helpless victim of rumors of a shameful tryst with Treize Khushrenada, who owned the stables Heero's own horse was kept it. He had no intent to buy anything, but he liked to know if town businesses were well-run, and when he saw the store was satisfactory under Anne's strict command, he returned to the street and ran into a blond man and his taller, blonder companion.  
  
"Apologies," Heero said gruffly to the taller man he'd bumped into.  
  
"Oh. A stranger," the shorter man said kindly. "Hello. Welcome to Sanq."  
  
Heero tipped his hat. He wasn't one for long introductions. "Thank you. I'm Heero Yuy," he said before either of them could ask.  
  
"I'm the mayor here. Quatre Winner," the short one said and shook his hand. "Are you settling in?"  
  
"Still deciding," Heero replied. "I come from New Port."  
  
"Ah, an easterner," Quatre chuckled. "As east as you can get in the west anyway. What did you do there?"  
  
"I was deputy sheriff," he said tersely, a little surprised how well the mayor addressed newcomers. The New Port mayor, Gerald Quinze, hardly spoke two words to any individuals, preferring to stay in his offices preparing long-winded speeches that were as unnecessary as they were boring. "To Sheriff Odin Lowe."  
  
"Ah," the taller man murmured. He had seen the corruption of Sanq, but he extended his hand. "I'm Sheriff Milliardo Peacecraft. I'm afraid you find me badgeless today; it's my wife's and my third wedding anniversary."  
  
Marriage was certainly done often in Sanq, Heero observed. In New Port, people thought of abstinence as a guideline more than a commandment, and adultery was a frequented crime performed even by those whose spouses had betrayed them.  
  
"Congratulations." Heero shook his hand.  
  
"Thank you, sir. Come by the hall tomorrow night, won't you?" suggested Milliardo. "Large party, with all the dancing and beer you'd ever want. There's always good company, too."  
  
Heero hesitated. This town really was different from New Port after all. The natural show of warmth from even someone as important as the sheriff was a sure contrast. "I'll think about it," he said. And meant it, surprisingly.  
  
"We've good folks in Sanq," Quatre added. "Enjoy your stay, Heero Yuy."  
  
The mayor and the sheriff kept walking, discussing tomorrow's party now that they were on topic.  
  
Still somewhat taken aback by the outward welcome, Heero headed back to the hotel on the other side of town. He would write to Odin and say he had made it to Sanq, though the drunk that had been half a friend to him probably wouldn't give a damn. He'd tell him about his horse's condition; he'd care about that because he'd wanted to buy the animal from him and was still sore at him for declining the two hundred he'd offered.  
  
The sun was setting, and a light breeze ruffled the sleeves on his forest green cotton shirt. There was lively piano music playing from the saloon across the street. Children were being called inside for the night. He heard a woman laugh, and he turned his head to see what was amusing, only half-interested.  
  
He stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk, partly squinting from the glare of the sun. But what he saw made his eyes open completely and then a bit wider.  
  
The girls of New Port were adulteresses, whores, or giggly girls, none of which Heero had ever been attracted to. The maiden standing in the doorway of the sheriff's office about to go in was smiling at something said by a man taller than Heero with light brown hair that hung over one eye. Her smile was gorgeous, red and kind. Her hair was a shimmering gold and flowed back gently in the breeze of the wind and the lace fan she waved at her face. She wore a thick-skirted dress of crimson, the bodice detailed with an intricate white lace pattern. The underskirt that appeared just under the red skirt was dark blue, the same color, Heero observed, of his own eyes. The bodice left just enough cleavage to make a male mouth water.  
  
But it was her eyes that drew his gaze. The clarity and innocence of their summer-sky color captured his mind, and he would think of them long after she left his vision.  
  
Who was she? Dear God, he thought though he was primarily godless, who was that woman?  
  
Before long, the green-eyed man kissed the back of her hand and strode away into the saloon adjacent to the sheriff's office. Sheriff Peacecraft came out as he left and took the small, beautiful woman into his arms and pressed his lips to her forehead. He said something to her, and she left again and embraced him.  
  
A stone dropped in his gut as the thought occurred to him that the woman was most likely the sheriff's wife. A woman with a pair of eyes – and other things – like that did not go a single maid for long.  
  
She turned to go inside with Milliardo, but halted suddenly. She shot a look over her shoulder too fast for Heero to manage pulling his eyes from her, and their glances met each other across the street.  
  
The wind strengthened – as though two forces suddenly met and caused the entire world to react to the power. The woman turned to him completely, her eyes inquisitive. They plainly asked his identity, just as Heero was sure his own eyes asked hers. Wind swept her hair to her left shoulder, exposing the right side of a pale, lovely neck that he found he wanted to kiss. He would kiss the smooth column first, then work his way to her jaw, and finally meet the red lips that so seduced him even from thirty feet away.  
  
A horse-driven cart of vegetables wheeled by. The spell that had held them both rooted to their sides of the street was cleanly broken. Heero blinked. A quick glance to the clock behind him said he had only been standing there for a few minutes, but it felt like he had been staring at the golden-haired woman for hours, for years.  
  
When he looked back to drown himself in her eyes again, she was gone.  
  
***  
  
Heero did his best to banish the woman and her entrancing eyes from his mind. For all he knew, she was the sheriff's wife or the girl of the tall man with grin eyes and an alluring smile. And he would not lower himself to lusting after what was not his. If he did, he would be better off going back to New Port.  
  
But that state of lust was there, no matter what his did to prevent it. He'd been able to see from his vantage point that the crimson dress she's sported so classily had a line of tiny pearly buttons from her neck to her waist. He had dreams of peeling that wine-colored gown from her and exposing the pale flesh beneath; images no moral man should be able to conjure. And he was a former deputy sheriff!  
  
The next afternoon, it took both Duo and Hilde, but the lively pair managed to drag him to the town party. When they arrived, the music was already spilling out as much as the beer, which had been donated by a man named Barton who ran the saloon. The men of Sanq appreciated their alcohol, Heero noted. That, at least, was like New Port.  
  
He smirked a bit. And anywhere else.  
  
He sat for a while as the Maxwells danced and spoke to Dorothy Catalonia, the granddaughter of a generous benefactor who donated mostly to the church, and Catherine Bloom, the sister of the saloon owner and wife of Christopher Bloom, who played the piano.  
  
Dorothy came across rather strongly. Her lime green dress, a hideous piece of attire, was far from modest, with a skirt of very thin silk and a very low bodice. A golden chain that was as thick as Heero's finger held a ridiculously large ruby that fell between Dorothy's breasts that were suspiciously tanned and he was a little concerned that the forward woman would fall over if she tried to walk.  
  
"...and when I was sixteen, I broke my leg trying to pick apples from the Schbeiker orchard – that's Hilde Maxwell's father's place, by the way and... Oh, excuse me." Dorothy paused in her memoirs to stand up, though she winked at Heero. She carried herself surprisingly well and went swiftly to another woman, probably to talk off her ear, too. He glanced over.  
  
She was the woman he'd seen the day before. Milliardo Peacecraft's wife, or so he assumed. Heero hurriedly left his chair and sat on a stool at the makeshift bar, ordering a glass of whiskey.  
  
He would not look at her, he thought fervently. He'd sit here all night. If people thought him antisocial, fine; he wasn't much for conversation anyway.  
  
"Do you always run away?"  
  
Heero looked up from the coins he was counting into a pair of emerald green eyes. He was the bartender, he realized instantly. He was also the man who had made her laugh yesterday.  
  
His eyes narrowed in defense. "What?"  
  
"You're the newcomer." It wasn't a question but a statement, meant to clarify that the bartender knew the town and Heero didn't, therefore the bartender was the advantageous man and had the verbal right, though they were in America. "So I guess you don't know too many people yet. It seems you met Miss Catalonia just fine." He smirked as he poured Yuy's drink. "Not unusual. She a rather shameless woman. I'm Trowa Barton." Either he was disinclined to shake hands or he was just too busy with the bar to do so was a question.  
  
Heero felt it was the former. "Heero Yuy."  
  
"Where ya from?" Trowa asked even as he grinned at something another man had said to him. Keeping several conversations at once was a trick only bartenders had.  
  
"New Port."  
  
"Oh?" Trowa's eye slid suspiciously over to him. "Some bad history of that little place." His eyes suddenly flashed. "You wouldn't happen to be running from there, too, would ya?"  
  
Heero's glare was more intense than customary. "I was deputy sheriff there."  
  
"I see." As though that hardly mattered in ways of clearing the newcomer's character, Trowa swept up the coins and dropped them in the till behind him. He turned back and stared for half a minute over Yuy's shoulder before nodding to Heero himself. "Well," he said at last. "I've got a bar to run. Hope you enjoy the ordeal."  
  
Heero didn't reply, but he knew he certainly didn't want to be at the bar if Trowa was going to run it. Stepping from the stool, he downed his whiskey with a few fast gulps and left the glass on the bar. He turned to let Duo know he was leaving—  
  
And met the same sky-blue eyes that had been in his head for the last day.  
  
Her lace fan fluttered just beneath her chin, cooling the air with its white curve. Heero was grateful for its breeze as it prevented his head from heating up.  
  
"Hello," she said kindly. "So you're new. Welcome to Sanq."  
  
God almighty, why did her smile have to hit him so hard? "Thank you," Heero forced from his tightening throat. Women had never flustered him; Heero Yuy had never been flustered. Why the hell did this one spin his head completely round?  
  
"Do you have a name?" she asked softly. "Or will I just have to call you Matthew for lack of anything else?"  
  
He ended up giving his name for the third time that evening and asked on a slight laugh, "Why Matthew?"  
  
She grinned at him, showing teeth as white as her fan, which still waved steadily. "I like the name. Heero Yuy, huh? That's just as good. My, but it's hot tonight." Even so, she closed the fan and lowered it to her side.  
  
With the barrier gone, Heero could get a good look at her chosen wardrobe for the evening. Her gown was a dark pink; innocent but challenging. Finding the spark in her voice, he decided the color suited her well. Her hair, sun-spun curls, hung over her shoulders and reached the gifted swell of her breast. Heero longed to reach out and touch it: the hair and the breast.  
  
"What's you name?" he asked boldly.  
  
"Oh, how rude of me to keep it from you." She touched his hand in a sort of greeting. "I'm Relena Peacecraft.  
  
Relena, he thought, was a beautiful, classy name. Peacecraft, he thought in the next instant, was a beautiful, classy name that also belonged to Sheriff Milliardo.  
  
So, he realized difficultly, she was his wife.  
  
"I know everyone else here, Heero," she told him. "You could tell me some about yourself."  
  
"There isn't much to tell."  
  
"Those who say that are either very boring or they're hiding something." Relena met his eyes steadily. "I sincerely doubt you're boring."  
  
Well, she was right, he thought frankly. He didn't want to tell her he had been born in New Port. Those who knew with the exception of Duo, Hilde, and the gentle mayor had given him distrustful looks. He didn't blame them. He despised his homeland, and always had. He'd have left, but he hadn't thought there was possibly anything better.  
  
He saw her smile and knew there was.  
  
She only laughed at his silence, that glorious laugh, and slipped her arm through his. And waved the fan again, though it seemed she was cooling his face more than her own.  
  
"Whatever secrets you may have," she said, "you can keep them to yourself. I understand that sometimes all a person has is his or her own secrets. I've my own, as does everyone. But, Heero Yuy." They walked to the porch outside of the hall while the dancing and chatter (prominently Dorothy's) continued behind them. "If you ever feel like losing some of your secrets, I have a very good listening ear."  
  
He barely knew her. She was next to a perfect stranger, this Relena. She was married, for God's sake, that much he knew at least. But the feeling of her arm in his, of her smile directed at him, of her eyes on him...it felt achingly right. And "right" was something he hadn't had in a long time.  
  
"Thank you," he murmured and she nodded. Heero snapped from his reverie. "Isn't your husband looking for you, perhaps?"  
  
"My husband?" She tilted her head. "Who do you mean?"  
  
Confused, he almost stuttered. Gaining his steady tongue again, he replied, "The sheriff. Peacecraft. Isn't he your spouse?"  
  
She blinked at him for a moment, surprise totally overtaking her features, but then her smile broke out again and she burst into laughter; not the giggles off the silly girls back home, not the guffaws of haughty women, but genuine laughter full of true mirth.  
  
She recaptured her breath enough to say, "Heero, I have never been married! Sheriff Peacecraft, Milliardo— He is my elder brother!" She laughed some more.  
  
Brother? Heero shot a look at Zechs, saw the height, the long near-white blond hair...and the blue eyes that were the same as Relena's.  
  
Their were other things, like the jaw line and the forehead that proved they were kin, but it was the eyes that convinced Heero straightaway.  
  
"But..." he mumbled. "Surely you've a courtship in progress. The bartender—"  
  
"Trowa?" she asked, incredulous. "He is a good friend. We were childhood sweethearts. But he's engaged to his bar singer, Midii Une. I'm sorry, did he offend you?"  
  
"No." He took in her smile, her eyes which laughed still, and the lace fan still fluttering at her chin. "May I," he said suddenly, surprising himself even as he spoke the words, "be permitted to court on you?"  
  
The mirth was swiped away like Trowa had his money and suddenly Relena looked completely befuddled. The fan waved faster, but it did not keep the pink from forming on her smooth cheeks.  
  
"I, ah..." Her hand left his arm to press to her bosom (something which would not ease his dreaming later); but soon a smile did form on her lips once more. "I...assume so."  
  
"Would it please you?" he inquired bluntly. Why attempt if it would be futile? This woman lifted something in him, and he wanted greatly to know what it was.  
  
Relena lowered the fan and rose on tiptoe to kiss his cheek lightly. "Yes," she assured him with a soft voice. "Yes, it would indeed please me." She turned to go back into, but like yesterday, she aimed a look over her shoulder. Her expression this time was pleasant and just the slightest bit mischievous. "Welcome to Sanq, Heero Yuy."  
  
He smiled himself as he walked back to the hotel.  
  
He felt very welcomed indeed. 


End file.
